


safe in your arms

by daffodilsinging



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and then sleeping in it together, anyway the boys have trauma but they are recovering! they are working through it babey!, bc i do, do u ever think about the intimacy of two people making a bed together, dont worry everything turns out just fine but there is, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25068070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodilsinging/pseuds/daffodilsinging
Summary: inspired by a conversation w my friend @daeivs in the discord about dave reminding karkat that they're both safe now and this piece by @hipdadz (https://hipdadz.tumblr.com/post/622408266887151616/open-your-eyes-boy-in-these-bodies-we-are-alone)
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 74





	safe in your arms

Dave takes off his sunglasses and puts them on the nightstand, stretching and yawning theatrically. Spotting an opening, you reach under his god tier hoodie and tickle him while his arms are up and he laughs, cringing away from you. “Aah! Cold hands!” He yanks the bedsheet around him, protecting him from further assault. “My goddamn boyfriend. Always willing to take me down when I’m at my weakest,” he mocks, scrunching up his nose at you. He has such long eyelashes, you think to yourself absently. They’re pretty.

“Well. I’m freezing now, cold-hands-kat. Are you going to make the bed or what?”

“I thought we were both going to make the bed,” you grumble.

“Uh, fuck no! I brought all those blankets up from the laundry room! That’s a transportalizer trip plus three flights of stairs! This might be our bed, but making it is your problem.” You scowl. He sticks his tongue out at you. You roll your eyes and sigh.

“Could you at least, I don’t know, get off the fucking bed first? So I can change the sheets and shit? Come on, Strider,” you say, grabbing the wad of sheets and blankets in the basket Dave plunked by your door earlier this evening. He rolls off the edge of the bed, landing facedown on the floor and taking half the loose sheet with him. You try your very hardest not to give him the satisfaction of your laughter.

“Mmmf mmfmmf,” Dave says through the carpet on the floor.

“What was that? I can’t hear you through the thick layer of dipshit that surrounds you everywhere you go,” you say, pulling the bottom sheet off the bed and tossing it into the laundry pile in the corner.

Dave rolls over, still wrapped up in the sheet like a burrito. “I said. I’m helping. I took the sheets off,” he says with a goofy smile.

“You took one of the sheets off, and decided to wriggle around on the floor in it like a grub instead of helping your partner. Real sweet.” Dammit, you think some fondness might have crept into your tone. Fuck.

“I know. I’m really just the best.” You throw the clean fitted sheet over the bed, crawling forward to pull the top corners down. When you’re done tucking them in, you see Dave sitting up in his blanket tangle, looking bashful. “Do you, uh, do you really need some help? Because I was just messing with you. I don’t mind.”

You shrug, spreading the second sheet over the bed. “Nah, I’m just being cranky. I’m fine.”

“Oh thank fucking god,” Dave says, falling onto his back and spreading his sheet out like a starfish. “The transportalizer really takes it out of me. Don’t know why. I always feel queasy afterwards.”

“Maybe it’s a human thing,” you offer, tucking in the second sheet. “Have you asked Rose how it affects her?”

“Oh, have I asked my sister Rose who can drink a whole bottle of pinot avant garde made with a six year old’s birthday gift chemistry set in one sitting whether the teleport machine upsets her delicate constitution,” Dave says dryly.

You snort. “Well, does it?” You try to remember blanket order: does Dave like the fuzzy red one on the bottom right after the sheets, or on top of the comforter at the end? You decide it doesn’t really matter, as he’ll undoubtedly make any complaints known to future Karkat in the most exasperating way possible.

Dave sighs. “Not really, at least so far as I can tell. Maybe it’s a timey thing. I think time and space are like, opposites? And that principle probably extends to game-built teleport pads? I never really grasped spacey shit. Jade’s whole thing always made my head spin.”

Red blanket down, two more to go. It gets pretty cold at night on a metal building clinging to a meteor hurtling through paradox space at a bajillion miles per hour, believe it or not. “Are you sure that it doesn’t just hate you personally?”

“I don’t know, you could be onto something. Maybe the teleporter is jealous of my rhymes,” he says, getting up and taking his sheet to the laundry pile. He throws it over your head for a moment on the way over while you’re trying to decide what blanket should go next, but yanks it away and tosses it on the pile before you can grab it. “Rhymes so hot they slip out of your hands like sheets and potatoes and All-Clad pots. That’s what I got.”

You groan, turning away and grabbing your thermal blanket out of the closet. “Alright, okay, that one was shit.” You spread the blanket out on the bed and Dave spins around at the unfamiliar sound.

“What is this, Mylar or something?” He pokes it and recoils from the crinkling noise. “Doesn’t seem all that comfy. Why’d you put this one on here?”

“Oh, I just.” You avoid his eyes. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Why would this be an old habit?” Dave is looking at you with equal parts confusion and concern.

“Do we have to get into it right now? I’m kind of tired, and I want to go to bed, not bring up past trauma, okay?”

“Karkat.” Dave takes your hand in his. “You can talk to me.”

“Okay, whatever.” You scowl. “Because I’m a mutant I run pretty warm for trolls, warm enough to show up as an anomaly on heat scans. So I sleep with a thermal blanket to hide from the drones. Or, well, I used to sleep with it to hide from the drones. Now it’s just kind of a habit. There. Happy?”

Dave is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Can I give you a hug?”

You’re thrown for a moment. “Uh, sure?” He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tight. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you begin to ease into it, pressing your head against his shoulder.

“Thanks for telling me that. I know it’s not always easy for you to talk about that kind of stuff. Whereas my trauma just kinda dribbles out of me constantly like some kind of rambly leaky faucet.” He runs his hand through your hair. “But we’re safe now, Karkat. You know that, right? We’re safe.”

You can feel something in your chest crumble upon hearing that, and your breath hitches. Pretty soon you’re full-on bawling into your boyfriend’s jacket like a wiggler. He just stands there, holding you, rubbing small circles on your back. There’s definitely a gross amount of snot on his magic time pajamas now, you think, pulling away and wiping your nose with your shirtsleeve.

“Sorry. That was gross. And embarrassing,” you say, nose still a little stuffy.

“Karkat, it’s fine.” He gives you a little pat on the back and gently lets the hug go. “I’m here for you, dude.” A sad smile appears on his face. “You wanna go put that blanket away while I finish making the bed?”

“I, I don’t know if I-” You stop. Remember what Dave told you. “Okay. I don’t need it. I’m safe now. Nobody here wants to hurt me.” You consider that for a moment. “Well, okay, Gamzee probably wants to hurt me at least a little. And who knows what the fuck Vriska wants. But they both already know I’m a mutant anyway, so-”

“Hey. You could’ve just stopped at ‘nobody here wants to hurt me’, sweetheart.” Dave’s eyes narrow. “But just so you know, if either of those punks ever makes any kind of move on you, I’m tearing them to shreds, alright?”

You laugh. “That’s sweet, Dave. But I don’t think I need any more dead friends.”

“Okay. Offer is still on the table though if you change your mind. Some good old-fashioned brutal half-sword murder. Rose’d help me hide the body. Kanaya would probably help too if it was Gamzee, come to think of it.” He gives you a sly smile, and you return him a stone-cold stare. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it.”

You fold up the thermal blanket while Dave throws the comforter over your bed, trying not to cringe at the racket that it makes. You walk back over to the closet and hop up to put it back in its place, leaving it there with a little pat. While you’re over there, you grab your pajamas to change into, and toss a big t-shirt over to Dave since you ruined his godtier hoodie with your little sobbing episode. Sure, it’ll magically clean itself just fine in a couple hours, but you’re pretty sure he doesn’t want to go to sleep in snot clothes.

Dave laughs from across the room at the shirt you gave him while you put on your pajamas. “Oh my god, what is this? Is it from one of your books?”

You blush furiously. “Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s very cool and a fantastic pairing that happens to be a favorite of mine, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make fun.”

“Ah, sorry. I was totally joking there. You know I love your gay ass quadrant romance novels.” He puts on the shirt, and you squirm down into bed to get comfortable.

“Can I turn the lights off?” you ask.

“Sure,” says Dave. “God, I’m tired.”

“G’night,” you say as darkness falls over the two of you. As you drift off to sleep, Dave’s words echo in your mind. We’re safe now.

~

You’re awakened in the middle of the night by a strangled cry and the sound of something hitting the floor. You reach out an arm to Dave across from you, and when you find only a warm spot and rumpled covers, you sit bolt upright and tug the cord that turns on the lamp by your side of the bed.

Dave throws up an arm to shield his eyes. He’s standing on the floor in rumpled pajamas, holding his broken sword at the ready in his other hand. He’d knocked over a pile of books in his scramble to find it.

You rub the sleep from your eyes. “Dave, what the hell is going on?”

“I heard, there was laughing, it was him, down the hall-” His eyes are wild, darting around the room, looking in doors and windows and dark corners.

“Dave! Where are you right now?” You don’t know if it would make things better or worse to touch him, and you definitely don’t want to try your luck, but luckily, something in his vision clears with the words.

“I’m. I’m, uh, I’m on the meteor. I’m in our bedroom. With you.” He starts to lower his sword.

“Where is your brother?”

Dave takes a shaky breath. Lets it out. Takes another. “My bro is dead. He died two and a half years ago. Viking funeral on LOHAC. I watched the body burn.”

“Good. Alright.” You watch him as he stands there for a moment, shaking. “Do you think you can put the sword down?”

“I, what?” He looks at his hands with surprise. “Oh. I do have my sword. Guess I grabbed it on instinct.” He lets out a weak chuckle. “Still got it.”

“Dave, you shouldn’t have to still have, or have to have ever had, battle reflexes. You’re a teenager.”

“But if I need to-” He stops. Catches himself. “Nope. I don’t need to fight anything. Nobody’s coming after me anymore. I’m safe now. Alright. Alright. Okay.” He sets his sword down on the floor by the nightstand.

“Are you okay?”

Another shaky laugh. “I’m golden, sweetheart.”

“Please be honest with me, Dave.”

“Okay well, if you want to know. That, uh, I don’t know. That was bad. That nightmare scared the shit out of me.” His voice gets a little quieter. “That’s the worst they’ve been in a long time.”

“Alright.” You scooch back over to your side of the bed, sit criss-cross applesauce, rearrange the jumbled covers. “Do you want to get back in bed?”

“That would be nice.” He clambers back under the covers, and you take care not to touch him. He rolls over onto his side to face you, and you reach out your hand.

“Can I-”

“Please.

You gently stroke his hair, and he moves his head into your lap. You sit there for a while like that together, quietly, while Dave’s breathing slows down to a steady rhythm. You think he cries a little, but you don’t mention it. Finally, he speaks, voice croaky.

“Thanks, Karkat.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” He pauses for a moment. Considers. Speaks softly. “Stay close to me.”

“I can do that.”

You slide back down under the covers, flick the lamp by the side of the bed off again with Dave’s permission, and wrap him up in an embrace. Your arm gets a little squished under his torso, but you don’t mind. After a few minutes, Dave’s breathing gets quieter. Something wells up inside your chest.

“Hey Dave?” you say.

“Mmf?” he says, muffled by his pillow.

“Did you know that I love you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums, pulling your arms closer around him.

You stay like that, two people in one warm tangle of bodies, until you finally fall asleep. Together, loved, and finally, finally safe.


End file.
